


Seize a Chance

by Arithanas



Series: What friends are for? [5]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Quickies, Sexual confession, friendly ribbing, pent-up sexual urges, sinship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1622, Paris. Lateness is the price to pay for a quick rendezvous</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seize a Chance

The door banged loudly against the wooden wall and a couple of steps were taken before it was firmly shut again. Athos cared little for the dent it was made on the mortar, Porthos was sure, but he didn't stop to consider it any longer. They had precious little time and he was not about to waste it pondering on Athos' concerns about his abode, especially when Athos was too harried getting rid of his hose and boots himself.

If Athos was in a hurry, Porthos was even fuller of activity. Porthos sat on the bed, noticing the sturdiness of the furniture before kicking his boots to one corner and he smiled all the time while he peeled the shirt over his shoulders and head; he was recalling the way they arranged this little tryst:

“It had been weeks...”

“I know.”

“So, want to get the sheets wet?”

“Come to my place”

“You can come to mine.”

“I prefer mine; at least I know my furniture can bear the combined weight of two fully-grown men”.

Athos was right, as usual.

Soon, Porthos felt the caress of the sun in his naked body; he was panting with desire. It has been a long time since they had the time to fool around, since the Captain arranged their schedules to have one enter on service at the same moment the other is getting free time. It has been hard to endure frustration under the circumstances, but no roster is perfect and they found the crack where they can slip a suitable but hurried time for their pleasure.

“Hey!”

Athos tossed something towards Porthos' general direction and although Porthos missed it, it bounced on the mattress safely. Porthos took it; it was a closed bottle of wine. Athos was the perfect host: one couldn't bugger a friend silly without offering him a drink first.

Porthos moved to the center of the bed and bit the cork, there was no time to look for a knife. The cork was promptly spat and Porthos took a long gulp, realizing that the bottle was a fantastically good vintage. Athos sat on the left side of the bed and asked for the bottle with a sign and as soon as he secured it he made a turn with the hand, inviting Porthos to lay himself prone on the bed. Porthos was happy to comply while Athos gulped down a bit of the wine.

The sound of the bottle on the auxiliary table warned Porthos Athos was ready to carry on with the task and a shudder of anticipation. Porthos closed his eyes, his nostrils flared when the faint aroma of the oil came to them. His cock, captive between his belly and the bed, twitched happily.

Porthos admitted to himself that this was the kind of emotion he was expecting for weeks.

The kiss was first, a soft kiss between the shoulders while Athos’ hands ran busily to his rear end to caress, stretch, and prepare Porthos’ rear hole for the assault. Porthos never expected to enjoy with bated breath a thorough buggering but those fingers stretching his hole were too good to disdain.

The weight of Athos over his bare hips was next. The soft drizzle of fugitive drops of oil on his butt shot a pleasant tingle of delight, of tantalizing anticipation. When Athos parted his cheeks with fingers and cock, Porthos moaned, he always did when Athos’ girth pierced his flesh with steady pressure and slow force. Athos pinned him with his body, propping his weight on his elbow, letting Porthos’ butt take the whole length inch by inch. Porthos was still marveled because he felt no pain at the intrusion, just fullness and a taste of the pleasure to come.

“I dreamed of this,” Athos confessed before kissing Porthos’ wet nape.

“Me too,” Porthos raised his head, “Fuck me good, Athos…”

And Athos complied, retiring himself from Porthos before slipping his cock inside, with a slow motion, extracting another deep moan from Porthos. The slow movement made the bed rock a bit towards the wall, and Porthos worried for a heartbeat they were going to make a racket once Athos picked up his speed; he even pictured Athos’ landlady hearing the noises and that image added to his pleasure considerably.

God knows he missed Athos’ considerate and steady touch, he even might go as far as to admit he missed that feeling of hefty, pulsating bit of meat digging into his innards with the methodical precision.

Athos began to whisper in Porthos’ ears a cascade of rushed words without even a breath to separate them and Porthos’ cock juddered gleefully into the bed; if Athos was giving voice to the lewd thoughts in his mind in a dashed, tangled manner between short gasps of frenzied breath, Porthos was happy to enjoy the sound because even when he didn’t make the sense of any of them. There was no need; all that matters was that those words were hot, randy and authentic.

Porthos only hear that particular music when his partner was beside himself with lust, the meaning would spoil the delicious feeling of being wanted and lusted after…

Athos right hand snuck below Porthos' arm by the armpit, before seizing the shoulder as if to anchor his movement, because after he did that the bed stopped rocking and the pounding intensified. Porthos felt how the pressure in his belly intensified; his orgasm was building inside with amazing speed. Porthos dug his right elbow on the mattress and tried to turn around to warn Athos, but Athos hung his head and kissed his lips without stopping his relentless attack. This new position made wonders for Porthos' cock, as it increased the friction and allowed Athos' length to reach for that magnificent place that always makes him moan as if he were about to render the spirit to the All Mighty.

Porthos had no time to consider that this would be the worst time to give up the ghost, but not even all fire and brimstone in Hell could stop the series of joyful tremors and the subsequent wet shoots. The last sound that fell on his ears was Athos satisfied grunt before pleasure overcame him…

Porthos was revived by the smell of wine and was greeted by the sight of Athos’ lean ass. That was a good awakening. The sound of the liquid splashing the sides of its container sounded like an invitation and Porthos turned around so grateful because Athos' bed was enough for both of them.

“My apologies,” Athos said and handed him the bottle. “I was rather ravenous.”

"You won't hear any complaints here," Porthos replied and crossed his legs, enjoying the pleasurable tiredness and the way Athos' seed caressed in his backside. "I was in the same condition."

“You know, in days like today, I almost forgive you about my horse.”

“I never understood that story about the horse...”

“You killed my horse in the Battle of Ponts-de-Cé.”

“I was in the Battle of Ponts-de-Cé, on the King's camp.”

“Same as me, that's why I'm so angry about my Spanish stallion. I was approaching with a message and you shoot me,” Athos sprawled his legs without shame and signaled the burnt scar on his right thigh.

Porthos was amazed because he wasn’t distracted by the hanging fruits or the spent cock. That scar seemed a bit old.

“If I hadn't made the poor beast rear,” Athos continued, without bothering to close his legs, “I would be a corpse, which would be lamentable, because I wouldn't be riding you.”

Porthos watched Athos intently before asking him, "Say, Athos, how old do you think I am?"

“My age or so, why?”

“Which age is that?”

“Seven and twenty.”

“I'm a score next summer” Porthos laughed and passed the bottle to Athos. “You are mistaking me for my older brother who died at Ponts-de-Cé. I was there as his helper and I ended up taking the musket to save my life. I didn't shoot your god-damned horse!”

Athos blinked his stupefaction a couple of heartbeats before taking a couple of gulps from the bottle.

“I regret my words,” Athos said and the compunction was visible.

“No harm done, besides, if my brother wouldn't have shot your horse, I would never have made your acquaintance.”

“Still, I feel like I owe you something.”

“Well, let’s do this: answer me a question and we can call it even.”

“Ask away and I promise to answer.”

“You were my first one…” Porthos murmured, trying to snatch the bottle from Athos’ fist, “and the only one, so far. Not that I was expecting another male lover anytime soon, but… Well…”

“Are you planning to get to any point soon, Porthos?” Athos took a long gulp before handing over the bottle to Porthos.

“Tell me how you get to know these pleasures…”

Athos sat straight on the bed, gloriously naked against the open window and the harsh midday light. As handsome as ever but his face was serious as if he was about to confess he killed the Queen Mother or something of the sort.

“Over a casket of wine,” Athos said in such a low voice that it was difficult to understand.

“Were you that drunk?”

“I was that randy,” Athos extended his hand to retrieve the bottle. “I was sixteen and I couldn’t bear the thought of waiting for a bed, so I gave myself to another man in a wine cellar, over a casket of good Beaujolais.”

“Well done!”

Athos scoffed before taking another sip.

“So, you got a buttload over a buttload…” Porthos couldn’t help but feeling how his cock stirred at the image in his brain.

“It was a tierce…”

“Don’t spoil the joke, _sangbleu_!”

Athos raised his shoulders as if he was containing a bout of impatience and waited for Porthos. His countenance proclaimed he was resigned to hear more wine puns. That disposition almost soured Porthos’ desire to poke his ribs.

“And this man who hammered the spigot…?”

Athos grunted and carried the bottle to his lips, acknowledging the information but waiting for the question to be finished.

“Was he memorable?”

“For a week.”

Porthos guffawed loudly. He understood the feeling pretty well, Athos accompanied him for over a fortnight after that damned affair with the bed and if it wasn’t longer it was because Porthos asked for a second helping before the sensation faded away completely. When his eyes returned to Athos he found the strangest smile on his face.

“You are recalling the scene, Athos,” Porthos said, it was a fact, not a question. That smile was awfully familiar, because Porthos had seen it in the mirror often.

“I want another go,” Athos said and straddled Porthos’ midriff with easy speed. His hand was quick and placed the almost empty bottle of wine on the auxiliary table.

“Wait! You are not ready…”

“Oh, I am…”

A mighty push from Athos’ hips punctuated his keenness. Porthos gasped at the tightness and the force of that grip; being inside of Athos always a tight fit. The warmth surrounding his hard flesh and the weight of Athos over his frame were enough to silence him for a moment.

“I really am,” Athos grunted and began to grind Porthos hard cock with his insides, “been ready since last week… Now, shut up and let me enjoy it while we have time.”

“You didn't oil yourself...” Porthos protested because the friction was maddening.

“I want it rough today,” Athos had his eyes closed; he was working his hips and thighs and successfully fucking himself with Porthos' cock. “I want to remember you for days...”

Porthos was sure Athos was not fucking him but his lover of yore, but that was fine. For the time being, he didn’t mind to be Athos’ toy, not while that compact rear bounced on his lap and that snug hole milked his cock; he even had the privilege to watch how Athos enjoyed himself, curving his spine to get the rod deeper inside him. Athos arched his glistening body with grace, his feet hooked over Porthos thighs and his fingers dug on Porthos flesh, he was really enjoying the act.

When Porthos let his eyes went down he noticed something unusual, Athos was hard. Athos, by his own confession almost never got hard when a cock dug his behind, but the cocked rod was hard and dripping clear drops on Porthos’ gut.

Porthos ―blessing his mother for giving him a long reach when she made him with long arms— seized the oil bottle and made a mess over his chest while trying to cover his hands with the unctuous liquid. Athos didn’t spare him a glance until a sleek hand grabbed his hard cock which made him gasp and brought his hips to a sharp change of pace in his efforts to get the better from the hand and the cock.

Athos mouthed a coarse word with quivering lips and Porthos grinned when the first drop was spurt. Athos rarely let go his seed when he was being buggered. Seeing the wet proof of his pleasure was kind of a victory.

“Oh…?” Athos muttered when his pleasure ran his course, his eyelids were fluttering and some strands of his hair were glued to his temple.

“That was a good one,” Porthos complimented his performance, his oiled hand still caressing that rapidly deflating cock. “Ready for a bit more?”

“Eh?”

Porthos rolled on his side and carefully took his cock out of Athos ―he needed a bit of oil to facilitate his pleasure since he was less intense than Athos—before re-inserting it in the welcoming body. Athos grunted and Porthos understood the signal, he was a bit sore and sensitive after getting his pleasure.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I can handle it,” Athos said, wrapping his legs around Porthos’ waist. “Just be quick…”

Once the permission was granted, Porthos nuzzled his head under Athos head and devoted his energy to rush his pleasure once more; enjoying the soft and warm interior of that receiving body and the occasional spur Athos’ feet gave to his behind to encourage his endeavors. Athos still managed to grind his hips and do that amazing thing with his ring that felt like a firm caress. Porthos resented when Athos achieve his peak another time before him could ever feel how his balls tensed in preparation for his climax.

“God-dammed bells,” Athos grumbled when the church started calling for mass.

“They are quite loud,” Porthos agreed.

“I’m going to be late,” Athos protested and arched his back.

Porthos then realized he lost track of time and drive his cock more forcefully to the task, extracting some telling moans from Athos.

“Damned be my soul,” Athos said and smiled before hugging Porthos hard against his body. “Now, I want to be late…”

Porthos laughed and continued with the task, he can’t let Athos be too late or the Captain will chew his friend’s ass.

And that’s a pleasure he was reserving for himself, for another tryst.


End file.
